


Daddy Issues

by Entropyrose



Series: Season of the Devil [4]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Post Mpreg, Sex while partner is sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-08-31
Packaged: 2018-07-19 10:43:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7358023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entropyrose/pseuds/Entropyrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part Three in The Season of the Devil Series, but can be read alone. Frank and Matt have a happy, healthy three-year old boy. That never seems enough for Frank.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DichotomyStudios](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DichotomyStudios/gifts).



Daddy Issues

 

Matt would never have considered himself the “domesticated” type. He loved the concrete jungle that was New York: its people, its atmosphere, the fact that every street you turned down offered a different culture. New York, as far as Matt was concerned, was a preview of every good place in the world. You could explore the majesty of the forest from Central Park then get Indian food for lunch. People bought their devotionals and their vibrators on the same block. 

So when Frank came home with an inch-thick realtor brochure that Matt couldn’t even read, he raised a well-groomed eyebrow. “It’d be good for Eric,” Frank said, bouncing the cubby, red-headed toddler on his knee. “For us, too.”

Frank had plenty of real estate in back-woods locations in the form of fallout bunkers, safe houses, garages and tactical hideouts where he stored his heavy artillery (read: armored vans and shit). What need would they have of more property? 

“The office is barely above water as it is,” Matt retorted. “Don’t jostle him so hard. He just had his carrots.”

Frank let out a playful gasp, “Did you just have your cawwots?” He blew kisses over his chubby cheeks and Eric let out a delighted squeal.

Matt pursed his lips to keep from smiling. He could envision the sight of the Fearsome Frank Castle in all his militant glory, and battle scars and fresh bruises, torturing their son with tickles and babbling happily. A feeling of loss crept through him, and he adjusted his glasses. 

“You tell Daddy you wants a house in the country.” 

Matt shook his head. “We have enough on our plates as it is. Besides, the more rural we get, the more distance there is between us and the bad-guys."

Frank shrugged. "It would only be a vacation spot." -------Chubby little hands clutched both pointer fingers, and Frank drew up his thumbs and made "peew! peew!" sounds, squinting one eye as if looking down the scope of his AX-50. "His shot is perfect! Bad guy goes "WHAM"! Uggh....bad guy dies." Eric squealed gleefully. -----"Four weeks out of the year, tops." 

Matt shoved the useless magazine away and proceeded to the kitchen, popping the frige door open and feeling inside. The cool rush of air was a welcome sensation on his face.

He had been fighting a migrane all day.  

The best advice Matt recieved on their wedding day was that marriage is a blank box. It comes plain; no decorations, no latch, no overflowing promises of eternal wealth and happiness. Marriage is exactly what you put into it, nothing more, nothing less. 

Lately the box was mostly full of "Honey-do" lists and arguments over what dinner was going to be that night. Frank was not over  every night of the week; Matt hired a caregiver on Thursdays and Sundays, Frank's busiest nights for ball-busting. Said caregiver also had to be on-call for super-hero emergencies (which Matt disguised as sudden calls from the DA's office or a client landing in the hospital or jail.) 

Said caregiver was a well-dressed, middle-aged woman named Lynda who lived in the penthouse adjacent to Matt's apartment complex and worked in a corporate office nearby. She had three little darlings of her own, but since her husband was retired (Matt assumed there must have been some typical trouphy-wife setup, there, being that her husband was 22 years her senior) and the kids were at school most days, she got easily bored and as such enjoyed coming over and playing with their fun 3-year-old. That's pretty much what Matt had deciphered, anyhow. 

But today was Wednesday, and said Caregiver was at a late-night PTA meeting, so Frank and Matt had to put thier heads together, decide upon dinner, and somehow figure a bath in for Eric while dinner was cooking. 

In all Matt's years of lawschool he had never multi-tasked this much.

"Poo-poo," The baby managed. 

"You're taking this one," Matt called, waving a hand over the fridge door. 

"I'm on it." Frank practically skipped down the hallway in his black cargo fatigues and painted black skull shirt, singing to his son all the way to the bathroom. "Poo, poo, poo, Eric's gotta go Poo-Poo." 

Matt stifled a snicker, shaking his head in sheer adoration. It seemed as if a switch had been flipped that morning in the hospital when Eric was born---he could hear it in Frank's voice, feel it in his touch. It was as if some small part of him had been resurrected for the soul purpose of loving that child. 

Matt settled on chicken and kale lettuce, even though he knew Frank would disapprove. If Matt was beginning his heat, as the headache and timing implied, he really would not be able to stomach sitting across from Frank as he gnawed into a very bloody, barely-warmed steak, even if consuming mostly-raw meat helped surpress his urges. 

"Mayday, Daddy, Mayday!" Frank's voice burst out from the bathroom. "We didn't make it!" 

Eric's laugh permeated the halls, and Matt felt his heart swell. Oh how he loved his little man. The sound of a running bathtub told Matt that Daddy Frank had a mess to clean up and laundry to do. 

Matt started a skillet and got to cooking. 

Dinner was filled with banter and soft finger-foods being hand-fed to a rambunctious, newly-washed baby. Matt didn't talk much about work today. Several cases were vying for attention in is brain, one or two in particular, but Matt forced the thoughts out, filling his time with conversations about Thomas the Choo-choo and Daddy's Franks "Funny-boop" (That was code for a busted nose). Frank's fork pushed the kale around the plate, stabbing through the hunks of meat that Matt had *tried* to undercook just for him.

Eric passed out halfway through dinner, his chubby head bobbing downward. Matt was convinced that if it were not for his chubby chest, his cheeks would just flop right on down to the floor. Matt smoothed wisps of fine auburn hair from his forehead and gathered him up. 

Frank started dishes as soon as Matt headed to the bedroom. 

Eric still slept in their room, though he had his own bed at the opposite end, at Frank's request. Matt wasn't entirely sure he agreed with Frank's overly-protective style of parenting, but then he had never lost two children and a spouse to a violent mob hit. Matt wondered then, if Frank's fierce protectiveness was one of the reasons he stayed away some times, when the going got rough. 

He kept his new married life at a distance. But, Punisher followed Daredevil into everything. 

He slid Eric down into the bed, covering him to his chin with a heavy jean blanket (Frank insisted that the weight of the fabric would help Eric feel more secure, but Matt was pretty sure Frank was projecting. Still, Matt picked his battles) and turning on the soft yellow nightlight. 

Matt bumped something on the rocking chair beside Eric's bed and felt a large, full military backpack. Matt's sighed. Frank knew it was that time again. Matt was on an Affect-formulated birth control which worked to surpress his "mating signal" and reproductive abilities on a day to day basis, but it was not very effective when in heat, and Matt still had those nearly monthly. Like fucking clockwork, man. And Frank--his Alpha--was not to be trusted. Matt's heat almost immediately threw Frank into his rut, and that doubled with Frank's constant begging for another child. Matt was unable to stop him, and Frank could not control himself.

Frank would leave town for a week or so, and things would return to normal. Until the next time. Matt wondered how long it would last. The separation had nearly wrecked him last time. Matt's biological need was to mate with his Alpha, yes. But more than that, he desired---was driven to---the closeness that came with being physically bonded. Frank truly was his everything. Matt didn't care how corny or cliche that sounded, even in his own head. It was the truth, clear as day.

Matt was not ready for another child. He was pretty sure that with Frank, any number of kids would be too few. 

He gave his sleeping son a soft peck on the cheek before turning to leave.

Matt folded the wadded-up kitchen towel and stacked away his good glasses. He popped a few pills from the cupboard, hoping they would help with his headache. As he tossed his head back and to take a swallow of water, he found the space occupied.  "Owh," he mumbled, clenching the pills between his teeth.  

Frank's face was buried in his neck, fingers going up under Matt's stretchy t-shirt, sliding around his belly. Matt swallowed the pills and gripped the glass. "Don't make me splash you," he warned. 

Frank was quiet. Matt's attempt at light-hearted redirection had failed. The skin of Frank's lips were rough and calloused, but his touch was tender, sensual. Matt shuddered, feeling a wave of pleasure tingle up his spine. "C'mon, Red." Frank moaned, a growl presenting itself in the undertones of his voice. Matt hated the nickname, hated that it made him hot.

Matt stopped Frank's hand from sliding further, blocking off access to the fly of his jeans. "Frank," He muttered.

Undeterred, Frank flicked his thumbs over Matt's hips and Matt shuddered.  Frank was at least a head taller than Matt--and though Frank was no match for Matt's stealth or speed---if he trapped Matt, Matt damn sure stayed that way. Frank's breath tickled Matt's earlobe as he bumped Matt against the counter. 

Matt fought through the hazy thoughts that threatened to let Frank have his way and calculated the risk. They went through this every heat cycle; Frank wouldn't leave until the last possible moment, and as the burning tingle of desire crept up on them, Matt would have to decide if he would give in or boot Frank out. 

It was impossible to rely completely on birth control and heat suppressants, especially when the heat was just beginning. By morning, Matt knew, it would be in full swing. 

"Please," Frank whispered. There was something earnest and pained about his plea. His teasing touches became loving caresses, his wide, rough hands sloping over Matt's flat stomach. He gave Matt's neck a soft bite. 

Matt spun in his arms, facing his husband, his hands reaching up to cradle Frank's face. His lips parted and he leaned in, their mouths touching. Frank shuddered and trapped Matt against the counter with a shove. Matt focused on Frank's face; the old, familiar scar above his right eye, the wide and crooked bridge of his nose (a nose that had been broken too many times to count), the soft spot on his cheek that told of a fresh and nasty bruise. His thumb swept over a wet stream and Matt's brow furled. 

The pain was visceral. There were wounds in this man's heart that would never be healed. 

Matt wondered then if Frank sometimes saw a glimmer of his two dead children in the eyes of their son.

Frank suddenly backed off, angrily rubbing his face with an open palm. He sniffled, and let out a puff of air. "Sorry."

Matt held him as Frank's head dipped to Matt's chest. Matt pursed his lips and planted a tight kiss on the top of Frank's head. "It's okay," he muttered. They held each other a long while, somehow managing to make it to the couch for a long cuddle. 

The heat had subsided, for the time being, allowing Frank to rest in Matt's arms and listen to the beating of his heart in his chest. Matt let himself enjoy the feeling of completeness, and rubbed his eyes sleepily. They were a family. Frank would never be alone again. 

 

* * * * * 

 

Matt awoke to the warm feel of the light streaming in from the stained glass windows. He blinked slowly, and reached for his glasses. His hand paused mid-air when the wetness and weight on his body registered in his mind. "Damn it, Frank!," Matt snapped. 

Frank was on top of him, his hips firmly planted between Matt's legs, working a relaxed, circular rhythm that told Matt he had already came at least once. 

Matt groaned as his entrance clenched down on Frank's heavy cock; it was his heat cycle, thriving and new, squeezing Frank's dick so as to drink in every spurt of seed Frank could offer. Matt squirmed around the bulge protruding from Frank's shaft and that produced a satisfactory growl from the back of Frank's throat. 

Frank gathered Matt's hands and pinned them above his head. "Your turn," He moaned, lazily flicking a finger over Matt's fully-erect cock. Matt forced himself to lie still, knowing that any movement he made would only encourage the brute and work his penis that much further into him. 

"Without my permission, no less." Matt growled. "How dare you?!" 

Frank let out a dismissive grunt and wrapped his fist around Matt's member. Matt let out a cry and his head went back to the pillow. He was already slick with pre-cum. Frank began a straight-forward, in-and-out rythm with his hand, rocking his hips to match it. 

Matt's entrance was raw and stretched to its limits by Frank's bulbous shaft. The knot kept him open to recieve Frank's thrusts, but his hole was tight and locked on to the hilt of Frank's cock, trapping him there (quite happily). 

"I can give you more," Frank offered, switching his weight on the couch and rising to his knees. He quickly clutched Matt's legs and repositioned him closer, then went back to stroking Matt's needy dick. 

Frank bared down on him, his shaft swelling again as he thrust.  
Matt moaned, his anger being forced out by the undeniable need. His mouth dropped open, and a soft cry escaped. 

"That's it, baby.", Frank encouraged, stiffening to the hardness of a tree limb inside of him. 

Even the pain of his used entrance being assaulted by a rigid cock somehow encouraged the heat. Matt wiggled a hand free and shamelessly touched himself. 

"Come on, Red." Frank took it as a sign of willing participation and grabbed Matt's perfectly round asscheeks in each hand, his hips working in a frantic motion. The feeling was overwhelming; locked inside Matt, Frank's dick could not move outward--only drive in deeper and then back to his tight opening. The bulb at the beginning of his cock swelled further, spreading Matt in two. He arched upward, his hands clutching fistfulls of Matt's firm flesh. 

Matt arched his back, giving into the heat and the need as Frank pounded into him. His cock twitched, the end of it raw and red and rubbing against Frank's toned stomach. He reached fever-pitch and a small stream of cum spat out. 

Frank flattened himself against Matt, grasping the couch arm behind Matt's head and giving him a rough, open kiss. "Make me a baby," he muttered. 

Matt stiffened. He thrashed suddenly upward, jerking Frank's dick inside of him. It would have been painful for both of them, had Frank not been ready for it. "Fucking---bastard---!" Matt's entranced clamped down around Frank's angry shaft as Frank shuddered and damn near exploded into him. Matt followed soon after, his orgasm undaunted by his anger, his seed splashing against Frank's chest in warm spurts. 

The two collapsed together, beads of sweat intermingling their scents. Matt regained his senses enough to raise his hand to Frank, which Frank easily caught. "I'm gonna breed you, Red." Frank panted, capturing his palm into a kiss. His teeth sank into the soft flesh and Matt let out a squeak. "If it's the last thing I do, I am going to breed you."

"It /will/ be the last thing you do," Matt promised. 

Frank chuckled. The baby monitor above their heads projected the delighted, happy squeals of a very awake Eric. 

"He's fine," Muttered Frank. Locked together, for at least an hour, there was nothing that could be done but to wait. "We were fed and pottied an hour ago." 

"Okay," Matt said with a sigh. "But if you got me pregnant again, I swear to God..." 

Frank moaned delightfully, pulling away from Matt and repositioning himself inside. "God, I hope so." He kissed Matt's perfectly flat belly--a belly which Matt had worked *very hard* to maintain after Eric's birth. "I love seeing you fat with our kid," he added. 

Matt felt his face flush and punched Frank's arm. "I'm not your heifer," he huffed. 

Frank laughed softly against Matt's mouth and ran his tongue along matt's pouting lips, easily parting them and slipping them inside. 

Matt moaned, more contented than he would admit aloud, and relished the kiss. 

The >Bleep< of his phone went off. 

"Damn it," Matt muttered, feeling for it. 

Frank found it first and flipped it open. "He's busy," he blurted. 

"Frank? You're still there?" Foggy's voice on the other end was incredulous. "But I thought Matt said he was kicking you out for the week." 

"He was. He did." Matt could just /feel/ Frank's grin widening by the smirk in his voice. 

Matt snatched the phone away. "He's out by today," he said, glaring at Frank for effect. Frank nuzzled his way down into the couch with Matt, his arms wrapping around his waist, pressing their bodies tightly together. Matt squirmed uncomfortably at the 'squick' sound of the stickiness that Frank didn't even seem to notice or care about. 

"How long?" Foggy asked. 

"Ohh, about an hour," Frank piped up. "We are kind of...wrapped up here at the moment." 

"Ew." 

Frank laughed and Matt slugged him. "I'll see you in the office, Fog." 

"Sure thing Matt. And uhm. Get a shower first, will you?" 

Matt flicked off the phone and glared at Frank. "What's gotten into you?" 

"You," Frank moaned, happily kissing his pissy captive. "And since we have time, maybe we can look at those cabins." He stretched for the Real Estate magazine that was flopped onto the coffee table and dragged the blanket off the back of the couch and on top of them. 

Matt surrendered. "Well, you can look and tell me what it is you're reading, anyway."

Frank pressed his cheek to Matt's chest, relishing the steady sound of his heart-beat as he flipped the mag to the Cottage section. 

"Well, here's one with a white picket fence, on about fifteen acres. This one looks real nice. It's a colonial-style cabin, three bedrooms, two bath..." 

Matt trailed off to sleep, listening to Frank and his dreams of the future.   
 

 


	2. Artwork for Daddy Issues

[](http://s611.photobucket.com/user/Jamie_Lyn_Gaskin/media/DaddyFratt_zpsb8dwodkr.jpg.html)


End file.
